This Girl Was Going to Be the Death of Him
by ohdarlingnicole
Summary: A prompt I got from tumblr: "Jake x Amy: The first 'I love you'."


"I love you."

He hadn't meant to say it to her like that. He wanted it to be a moment. He wanted to say it when they were walking home on one of their dates, or when they were cuddled on the couch, watching _Hoarders _or something. He wanted to see her look of pleasant surprise, her brown eyes go big. He wanted to see that signature Santiago blush-and-small-smile combination. He wanted to be confident that she would say it back.

This was not what he wanted.

"No."

"I just needed you—"

"No. You can't say that to me."

"This might be it—"

"Not right now."

"Why the hell not?"

"_Because it sounds like a goodbye._"

He was stunned by the desperation in her voice. "Amy…"

"No, no, no. Listen to me, Peralta. We are _not_ doing this right now. We are _not _dying here. We're going to find a way out of here, we're going to get those sons of bitches, and then we are going to go home. Got it?" Her voice didn't leave room for debate, and when his partner got something in her head, there was nothing he could do to stop her.

He nodded, "got it."

He looked around the dimly lit storage compartment with a sigh. A sting went wrong. Jake and Amy were sent to do some recon on some gang members that were smuggling drugs across the Canadian border (Canada, who'd have guessed it?) and, well, one of the guys recognized Jake.

* * *

They woke up here, confused, weapon-less, and cellphone-less. And Amy's blouse was unbuttoned farther down than it was before and Jake's blood boiled. After reassuring him that she was fine and promising him that he'll get to punch the piece of shit that did it, he calmed down enough to start thinking strategically.

After ten minutes, he kind of knew that this was a lost cause. This was probably it. He would be okay if it was just him, he was kinda planning on going down in a shoot-out or something awesome and cop-related, but Amy.

Amy didn't deserve this. Amy deserved a couple more years at the 99, and then she would get a promotion, and then she would get a couple more, and then she would make captain. She would make a damn good captain. She deserved a good home life, too. Maybe an adoring husband and one or two little Santiagos terrorizing the world.

Amy deserved to live.

Which is why Jake promised himself that they both would get out of this situation, or one of them would—and it wouldn't be him.

That led to him saying the words. Because it really might be his last chance. He just needed her to know.

* * *

Jake watched as she looked over the metal door to the compartment, looking for a weak spot. He knew that she was getting frustrated, because Amy Santiago doesn't give up.

"ARGH," she yelled and she banged her fists against the door, which caused the metal to rattle. He walked over to her and enveloped her in his arms, her head on his chest and his nose in his hair.

"It's not gonna end like this," she mumbled, her voice sending vibrations into his ribcage.

He didn't respond. Not because he didn't want to, but because they heard footsteps approaching. The two of them sprang apart, ready for a fight. Even if they didn't have any defense, the Peralta-Santiago team was not going down without some _300_-type shit going down with them.

Jake flicked his eyes to his partner, his gorgeous, amazing, badass partner, who he loved (guess there was no use in denying it now). Her eyes were blazing and Jake knew that she was going to raise hell when those dickheads opened the doors.

God, he had it bad.

"Attack when they open the doors. That should throw him off their game, give us enough time," Jake said. When he caught her look, he sighed. "I know it sucks, but it's all we got right now."

With a screech, the door lifted up and Amy bolted, attacking the dude headfirst. There was a very girlish scream that came after that.

What the hell?

"Boyle?"

Suddenly, Rosa appeared with a smug smirk. "You two lovebirds finished with your Seven Minutes in Heaven?"

"More like Seven Hours in Hell," he shot back. "Amy, you're crushing Charles."

Amy immediately got off Charles, who looked shocked. "Sorry, Boyle."

"No problem," he wheezed.

* * *

Jake and Amy were brought out of the storage unit and out onto the street. The three perps were standing with their hands handcuffed behind their backs with Sarge watching them, his bulging arms crossed and his face set in a deep scowl. When he saw the pair, however, the face softened into relief. "We all good?"

"We're good," Jake said. He caught the middle one staring at Amy's chest and Jake saw red.

Without warning, Jake punched the guy right in the nose, blood spurting everywhere, the guy dropped like a hot cake.

"That's for touching her, fuckface." He turned to his partner. She was barely suppressing a grin. "You can have a turn, if you want."

Her face broke out into a full on smile. "Nah, I think you covered it."

Jake smiled and hooked an arm around her shoulders, ready to go home.

* * *

A couple hours later, the two of them were on the couch. They weren't watching TV or anything—they were too exhausted to have to go through the process of debating on what show to watch—they were just together, holding each other.

"Did you mean it?" she asked quietly, tracing patterns that Jake could feel through his shirt.

"Mean what?"

"What you said earlier, in the storage unit."

"Amy—"

"Because if you said it because you thought we were going to die, I understand. Because for awhile there, _I _wasn't even sure if we were going to ma—"

"_Amy_. I meant it."

And there it was. The eyes going wide, the blush-and-small-smile combination. This is what he wanted.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, bringing her lips closer to his, teasing him by not closing the gap.

This girl was going to be the death of him.

"Why 'good'?"

"Because I love you back."

That pretty much forced Jake to bring her to him, his lips finding hers, because this? This was fucking perfect.


End file.
